


Strangers on a Plane

by InfernalPume



Category: Leviathan - Scott Westerfeld
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Complete, Gen, If You Squint - Freeform, M/M, Misgendering, Other, Strangers to Friends, Trans Male Character, and maybe mor, autistic charater, autistic!alek, but focusing on the friendship, trans!dylan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9330869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfernalPume/pseuds/InfernalPume
Summary: PROMPT: Write about modern day Dalek meeting on a plane for the first time.





	

Alek stood obediently first in line with the rest of the queue, understanding  _why_ he had to be here but internally disapproving of the circumstance. It was the principal of the thing, or so his mother had said. While commercial flight tickets were by no means costly for them, she wanted to teach Alek a lesson about ‘scope’. Before she had met his father she had always flown economy, and it was important to her that Alek understand the extent of the luxuries offered to him. So, for the next six years or so of boarding school Alek would be flying home in economy every vacation. 

Admittedly, the first three years had been educational, but Alek still didn’t have to like it.  

There were a few other boys in the same uniform of his school, three to be exact. Their flight must be later on in the evening, as they were currently loitering about the Starbucks kiosk trying to get the attention of the barista. 

For the millionth time Alek looked down at his ticket, matching the information on it to that of the large screen by the gate. One small compensation his mother had allowed him was to be in the express boarding group, and only because he had argued that if he didn’t have a secure place in the overhead for his carry on it might get stolen. So here he was, in front of the other civilians looking and feeling superior to all.

Laughter and sounds of roughhousing caught Alek’s attention, causing him to turn his head to a small group of boys shoving and joking with each other in English. Two of them were harassing a smaller third, whilst a taller boy was watching with crossed arms and a smirk. Apparently the small one had been caught flirting with the hostess on a previous flight, and this humiliation had been the point of all the humor during the trip. The boy himself seemed to be embarrassed only out of some obligation, trying his best not to smile and making weak arguments that only caused the boys to hoot and holler all the louder. 

What an incredible nuisance. 

Finally his boarding class was announced, Alek thankfully strode forward to put some distance between him and the unruly behavior. Alek knew that the seats would be smaller, especially for such a short flight, but he still felt a tight irritation at how little room he had. Immediately he sat down and opened his laptop, groaning when he saw that there would be no internet on this flight. The computer was closed and stored, replaced by a pair of headphones and the Original Broadway soundtrack for _The Count of Monte Cristo._

He absently noticed the loud cluster of boys make their way down the aisle followed by a mother and her six-year-old child. Alek’s nose wrinkled as the child was seated next to him, the mother three rows back. There had been some mistake, the mother arguing with a flight attendant in Romani, before glancing nervously to Alek.

His skin crawled as the stranger approached him, he was always so _awful_ at interacting with people he didn’t know.

“Please,” she said in French, “My son is too young to fly alone, he is so afraid…”

Alek opened his mouth, trying to find a way to explain he didn’t want to be separated from his luggage. Apparently this wasn’t the correct response, apparently mother, child, and everyone surrounding them expected him to leap out of his seat immediately. The judgmental looks made Alek panic, he didn’t know what to say and looked like a _dummkopf_ in front of everyone.

Finally there were some words spoken in English, and the child went to sit with his mother whilst one of the English boys took his place. Alek recognized the taller blonde one, who nodded politely before tugging his hood further over his head.

He probably assumed Alek was a snob like everyone else, and he was somewhat correct. Still, the boy had ‘rescued’ him in a sense, and Alek didn’t want to seem like a complete asshole.

“Thank you,” he said slowly, “I didn’t know how to…”

The boy turned his head and smiled, “Don’t worry about it, I’d react the same way if someone babbled to me and I couldn’t understand what they were saying.”

Alek frowned and wanted to point out that he _did_ speak flawless French, but realized that would just make him look worse.

“Well, regardless. Thank you…”

“Dylan,” The boy said, pulling his hood down completely to reveal only half a head of hair and two piercings in each ear, “Nice to make your acquaintance.”

“A-alek,” Alek stuttered, trying not to stare at his unusual appearance.

No one at his school was allowed to shave their head, particularly not the sides. It was about looking presentable and uniform, Alek had only ever seen people look like this in magazines and Cyberpunk movies.

Again the boy smiled, brilliant white teeth stark against his slightly tanned face. Alek smiled as well, determined not to offend him. There was silence again for a bit, the boy turning back to the window to watch the runway slide away as the plane readied to take off. Just as Alek debated prematurely putting his seat back the plane stopped and drove back to the terminal. There was some announcement about technical difficulties and an estimated wait time of about an hour, which was promptly followed by a chorus of unrest, Alek’s groans amongst them.

The minutes ticked by agonizingly slow, Alek had repeated his playlist twice over and was beginning to grow impatient. The cabin was tight and hot, with a groggy filth in the air that made his skin feel oily and unclean. Without realizing it, Alek sunk into a fetal position, one he often adopted in situations like these. He only noticed that he was doing something strange when Dylan put a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright Alek?” he asked, concern twisting his handsome features.

“Waiting like this is maddening,” Alek said, wincing as the awkward words left his mouth, “Or at least inconvenient.”

Perhaps he was not as familiar with the English language as he believed, because apparently this statement was funny.

“I suppose so, aye,” he said, “Though I’d rather they figure it out now then when we’re aloft!”

Alek knew on a logical level he would have to agree, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t irritated beyond belief. Again there was something the boy found humorous, and the laugh brought a smile to Alek’s face. A lull followed that laugh, one Alek felt sorely. It was always so difficult to him to speak to boys his own age.

“Why are you flying, Dylan?” He finally said, the language as mechanical as the phrases he and his peers parroted every day in class.

“School trip, sort of.” the boy said, “Our advisor is speaking at galleries in Zürich and Prague, he asked the school board to have us in the club come along to help set up. Ended up being more of a vacation, though.”

“Club?” Alek asked, glad at least Dylan was willing to make light conversation.

“Illustration,” Dylan said, “Its like an art thing.”

“Oh!” This caused Alek to raise his brows, “You’re an artist, then?”

Dylan snorted.

“What I am is someone wanted to stuff a suitcase with Swiss chocolate.”

Alek didn’t exactly know what to say to that beyond, “I see, did you?”

Again Dylan flashed him that smile, almost wicked as he unzipped a corner of his backpack loaded with candy. Alek couldn’t help but also notice a bottle of medication and immediately pretended he hadn’t.

“Fair enough,” he said, turning his head again.

“You go to a Swiss school then?” Dylan asked, gesturing to the insignia on Alek’s breast pocket.

“Yes, that is correct,” He said, “I am returning home for vacation.”

“Heh, we don’t get special blazers at Hockerill, just a tie for spirit week,” he said, “Though the _boys_ always get away with breaking the dress code, so maybe it’s the same there.” He added somewhat bitterly.

This made Alek pause. “What do you mean?”

Dylan took a deep breath and huffed it out, as if preparing for a rant he shared with people often.

“It says in the handbook that we have to be in uniform _or better_ which means that if they boys want to they can wear blazers and dress pants instead of the horrible khakis you get from the website. But for some reason they’re more strict on the girls, not just saying they cant wear dresses, but also they can’t wear _the same bloody outfits_ as the boys. And they keep saying ‘We’re just as strict on the boys,’ But they just _aren’t_ and the lads always give me clart for it. Its dead criminal, its what it is.”

Alek blinked as he realized with a lurch of humiliation that Dylan was female.

“O-oh,” He said, “I see.”

Dylan misunderstood Alek’s expression and fiddled with one of her earrings.

“Sorry for going off…it’s just bit of a personal hurt with me because I don’t like the skirt.”

“Of course not, I would also be offended, were there any girls at my school.”

There was silence for a moment between them, each sure they had said the wrong thing. Both jumped at the sound of intercom bell and groaned when the captain announced yet _another_ difficulty had arisen. The wait time was pushed back another two hours, the pilot drove back to the gate to allow them to step off.

Immediately upon re-entering the terminal Dylan’s friends reformed their little group, Alek realizing he stood too close to the girl to be acceptable to walk off while simultaneously being unsure of whether it was proper to stay with her. He didn’t want to give the impression he was trying to escape her company, but he also worried she’d think he was following her around.

So he stood at an awkward distance as they prattled on about how ‘rubbish’ the situation was, then bickered over plans for dinner. Alek, a veteran of this terminal, knew there was a food court just a short walk from the gate, and struggled to find the courage to speak up in this group he was only semi-involved in.

“Um…” he said, bringing a finger up.

The boys suddenly all went silent, turning to him expectantly as they would the complete stranger he was.

“What’s up?” Dylan asked, surprised as if she had only just noticed Alek was still there.

Alek made a nervous fist and forced himself to speak.

“I just wanted to tell you that I know where all the restaurants are,” He said, wishing he could evaporate away from this interaction, “If perhaps you need help finding them.”

“Oh, um…” Dylan hesitated while Alek screamed internally. Not only had he missed the window to escape social interaction, but also managed to make his incompetence the center of attention. He had said something wrong, he had _known_ he was saying the wrong thing even as the words left his mouth but he had just kept going like a _dummkopf._

“Thanks, that’d be decent of you,” Dylan finally said with a smile.

“Yes, well, this way…” Alek said, now thoroughly snared by social convention.

There was an awkward silence as Alek lead the boys away, or rather, walked in the correct direction and hoped that they were following him. It occurred to him after a moment of silence that the normal thing to do was introduce himself.

“I’m Alek,” he said as he walked, knowing full well this introduction came too late.

“Who?” One of the boys asked in a hushed tone Alek pretended not to hear.

“Some guy Dylan met on the plane, I think,” Another responded, “The asshole who made a big deal about getting out of his seat.”

Alek set his jaw at this, but didn’t say anything on the subject. These boys had just earlier been making fools of themselves in public, what did it matter to Alek how they thought of him? He found himself irritated that Dylan didn’t step in to defend him, however. Whatever that meant.

The moment they arrived at the court Alek tried to distance himself from the group and enjoy his isolation in peace. He had a feeling memories of this humiliating exchange would come back to haunt him in painful spikes any time his mind wandered. He was sure that he wouldn’t be able to think about airports without cursing himself under his breath for quite some time.

Alek had a feeling the boys would jump at the cheap Chinese or hamburgers, he stayed away from any of the good options. Alek retreated to the last place he’d imagine any of them wanting to eat, a vegan cuisine booth. There he grimaced as he looked over airport-quality salads and vegetable quiches, trying not to notice the bruised tomatoes and brown edges of spinach. When he heard more muttering from behind him he realized with a start that the boys were still following him. He turned to face them quizzically, wondering as to the most polite manner to tell them to go away.

One of the boys elbowed Dylan in the ribs, making her speak up.

“So um,” she said, pulling out an envelope, “I don’t suppose you know how much a pound would be worth…?”

“Ah,” Alek said, “Yes, I know the currency exchange.”

The boys were quick to empty their pockets and hold the coins together, causing Alek to frown. They really didn’t have all that much, pushing pennies together and upending bags to find any lose change. Did their school not give them a proper allowance? Or had Dylan just blown their food money on candy?

After a few minutes of counting on fingers and calculating exact results, they realized that there wasn’t enough between them to buy anything of substance. This baffled Alek somewhat, the franc was actually _less_ valuable then the pound, what had the boys expected to do for food when arriving in Prague? There were throaty groans of irritation and some talk of finding a vending machine, before Alek coughed into a fist.

“I suppose I could offer some of my travel allowance,” He said, “I don’t plan on eating until I arrive at home.”

There was a silence, before one of the shorter boys voiced a low sarcastic wail.

“Our hero!” He cheered, then came forward to sling an arm around Alek’s shoulder, “Does this mean we can get whatever we want?”

Alek suspected that even his travel allowance was enough to buy them all a meal at even the expensive restaurants, and nodded.

“So noble!” the boy sobbed, “Dylan, you’ve brought us an _angel!”_

Dylan rolled her eyes while Alek blushed.

“Dylan is more of an angel then me, she offered up her seat so that mother could sit with her child.”

Another silence, but this time cold and hostile. Alek had said something wrong again, but unlike before he had no idea what it was and the boys looked at him as though he had just uttered the filthiest of insults. Dylan himself sighed and looked away, obviously uncomfortable.

“Dylan’s a _boy,”_ one of them said in a voice that dripped with venom.

Alek’s eyes widened and he brought his hands up.

“O-oh! My apologies I didn’t mean to-“

“Its fine!” Dylan snapped quickly, his voice tight, “Why don’t you lads go find somewhere to sit? Tell me what you all want.”

The boys still shot glares at Alek but they relented, changing the topic to that of food. Dylan took down each of their responses on his phone and waved them off. The animosity in the air still made Alek’s skin crawl as they walked away, he wanted to leave himself but he had already offered to buy the people he had so scorned dinner. Alek eyed Dylan sideways and coughed again.

“Don’t worry about them,” Dylan mumbled, as if he could read Alek’s thoughts, “They’re just… hypersensitive.”

“I really am sorry,” Alek said, “When you spoke before about the dress code it sounded like it applied to you as well.”

Dylan blinked and looked at him sideways. Alek realized that now he had just admitted to being wrong about his gender _twice_ in the hour that he had known him.

“I mean- er…” Alek prattled on like an idiot, “I was kicking myself on the plane for assuming you were male. And now I’m kicking myself again for just the opposite…”

He sighed.

“How about I just give you the money and go stare at a wall.”

The boy only stared at Alek who found himself unable to read his expression. After a moment he shook his head.

“You’re fine.” He finally said, “Everyone’s just irritated because of the delays.”

Alek parted ways with Dylan after paying for the piles of cardboard containers stuffed with noodles and slimy processed meats to grab a coffee. His own peers were now gone, either having grown tired of harassing the barista or to board their own flights. Alek tried to look professional and mature, isolating himself out of dignity and not because he was an awkward schoolboy with no friends. To achieve this illusion he sipped at a tea whilst typing something on his laptop, hoping that no one read over his shoulder to see he was just copy-pasting paragraphs at random on his end of term paper.

Soon the two hours were up and again Alek found himself in the queue waiting to board. Again he was put in his seat, again Dylan swung in next to him.

“Finally off,” he mumbled, pulling his hood back up over his head, “We’re going to get in past midnight!”

“It is rather a nuisance,” Alek commented, before putting on his own headphones and trying to pretend he wasn’t there.

“Barking- where in blazes is my _water?_ ”

Alek blinked at the sound of cussing out some entity that he couldn’t recognize through his accent. He noticed Dylan rummaging through his bag frantically, unable to find what he was looking for. Before he even realized what he was doing Alek cleared his throat and asked a hostess for a bottle of water. When she returned he went about handing it to the boy, who muttered a word of thanks before pouring a handful of tablets into his hand and taking one.

Alek gawked at this; Dylan seemed to think nothing of taking medicine in front of a complete stranger.

“Do you get congested?” Alek asked.

Dylan looked at him then back at the bottle and blushed.

“Um, no. These are…er…” he stammered, “They’re blockers _.”_

“Ah.”

Alek pretended he knew what that meant while Dylan’s cheeks remained pink.

The couple of minutes that followed felt longer to Alek, he felt as though he should say something.

“I…I’m just surprised, I’m always too self-conscious to take my medication in public,” He mumbled, feeling as if he wasn’t allowed to disclose this information.

Dylan seemed to perk up at the comment despite this.

“Well, if I don’t take them on time it makes me feel odd,” he said, “What do you take them for?”

Alek couldn’t believe he was discussing this with a stranger he met on a plane but continued.

“Anti-depressants…” he mumbled, “For Asperger’s…”

That was definitely out of order. He most definitely shouldn’t have said that, it was almost impossible to look the boy back in the face. When he did, however, he smiled sympathetically.

“So you’re a SEND then?” he asked, causing Alek to wince.

“That is a word for it, but one I do not prefer.” He admitted stiffly.

“N-no! No sorry I just…” he shook his head, “I didn’t mean to make you _uncomfortable_. I’m thinking now maybe I was doing something wrong before.”

Alek nodded stiffly, annoyed as he always was when people treated him like a child because of his condition. It never failed to irritate him when strangers thought him rude and standoffish until they learned he was autistic. After that he was _brave_ to advocate for himself. They would marvel about how _high functioning_ he appeared, and ask him stupid things about his ‘preferences’ as if he were made of glass.

“Well, I did to you as well,” he said stiffly.

Dylan nodded awkwardly, and as the plane lifted off the ground both of them remained in a haughty silence.

“Thanks for the water,” Dylan mumbled after a while, before turning over to take a nap.

Neither of them spoke for the majority of the flight, the silence only broken any time Dylan needed Alek to stand so he could get to the aisle. Finally they arrived in Prague and Alek was ready to put this entire debacle behind him.

Walking into the terminal of his home city Alek breathed a sigh of relief, ready to finally begin his vacation in peace. He imagined he would still be tutored over the months off, but it was not like he had anything else to do other then read. Just as he was about to make his way to baggage claim, Dylan tapped his shoulder one last time.

“Thanks for the food,” Dylan said with an awkward smile, “I know its not _exactly_ paying you back, but here.”

The boy handed him a slip of paper. Alek frowned down at it, wondering if this was some sort of British form of IOU.

“Its for the gallery. I wasn’t _exactly_ telling the truth when I said I only came for the chocolate, some of my work’s there too.” Dylan smiled, “If you want to swing by, that’ll get you and some pals in for free.”

With that the boy saluted casually and rejoined his friends. Alek couldn’t hear the words that were exchanged, but there was soon a chorus of hooting as Dylan was shoved about on the way to the exit.

Alek sighed and looked at the paper, recognizing the location to be a nice establishment in the better part of town. Perhaps Mother would get something out of it, but Alek would have to look up information on the exhibit online. He had a feeling she would be more enamored by the idea Alek was _invited_ to something then anything else. Still, Dylan had offered the invite entirely good faith, Alek would only have to assume it wasn’t out of any sense of pity.

Once again Alek pulled his headphones over his ears, and crossed to baggage claim to meet his valet.


End file.
